Saturday 13 September 2008

Sunday, May 28, 2006

Sunday, May 28, 2006
LIGHT

two seconds break through on the telephone,
two seconds left to feel light, two seconds of mistaken words
and spies...


i find it funny how my words can falter in three
rice, lice, rice, lice

i find it funny baking tea and discussing scones
rice, lice, rice, lice

I find it funny how kings are kept quiet
and squires never appear

planes are plain on the plains of spain
insane and vain
rice and lice


The discussion:

As I wander through the town I feel foolish again, looking for life yet in trouble I feel from wiritng my last post and the disussion behind the Dome, I buy a coffee, the girl who works behind the counter is asked a question, is it stressful for her to work here, she replies it is, but she can handle it, NOT her exact words,her workmate replies if I talk to her againg she will feel much better, I will go to talk to her again, I tell I could not handle the stress myself as I blame myself for standing too near a woman that spills her tea on the counter for being electric or some such...borrow a lighter from a woman talking to her friend next to me, Erhu has got into her head and she is talking about God again...don't blame Erhu,...I have books in my bag, the dreaded Dumas, told I should read that, I feel it is devilish, gets too black on me reading about Cucmetto for example, if he was being hidden by a young orphaned soon to be married couple, and YOU were that couple would you hide him nobly OR would you take three thousand francs for his life, ? and then having done the right thing, have him reappear as the brigand who then offers you a bag of gold for your good deed...so, if, badly written...and confusing...so, then read the New Testament, relieves an old woman who stares at me continously whilst I drink coffee,...which is in my jacket pocket, yet as I walk along the road, I feel the book has been cut through, or as though I have been cut in the side...

Whilst, I have this bad feeling, that for one, a cleaner tells me she would be shot in the head in the precinct if she spoke to me, rather unreasonable, and leaves me considering that we are in fact still in Africa, strange, someting to do with fat security guard watching on the cameras and the fact some black women keep calling me and looking at me like I am a lesbian, I walk a long way and go to the takeaway in the rain, there is an emergency, as if we have suddenly all died whilst i walk past cars full of bad men to my auntie's house, i wander past the takeaway look in, walk further then turn back and walk in wanting the 'plainest rice' as I feel now is not the time to eat, i sing a song in mandarin/hebrew that feels like nonsense words as I always add ding dong afterwards, yet I recognise the word: "'Hosanna' pray to God", as I look at the list, the women are on the phone taking orders, they tell each one to pray to Jesus...a small miracle, from humble good women, perhaps that is what they tell the customers to do all the time and I am sure each customer listens to them...

I sit there on the bench, rocking praying almost, staring at a carving of ancient chinese men in robes, smelling bad, like my feet have been put into dog's poo, believing men are claiming my writing about a Queen has been like poop...I guess...or perhaps just shouldn't lay around on the grass in this garden...

I walk to my aunties to eat, Erhu says she will hold my hand there if Aunty gets too black on me, but this doesnt happen, I am polite a possible, Aunty thinks the devl is cool or something, bloody hippies, I can eventually bring myself to talk to the cat, as this cat is MY pet cat, believing there is no devil in this cat...look at Rum Diary's by Hunter S. Thompson, borrow it without telling Jimbo who is away...I am left alone in the house to smoke and eat, while my cousin is upstairs writing an essay, I lay down on the sofa, hands clasped together, I hear the neighbours through the thin walls,

As i talk to Adel, the sun begins to shine through a gap in the curtain, i realise when i get up that hours have passed,

she says the 'nurse is being shut.' NHS?

that Erhu, keeps telling her she is the best! getting on her nerves, and then Adel and I say then we have all adopted the Hong Kong is best! idea from a young girl I am distantly related to...I say Erhu is being a renegade, (there is an old dance song I sing at times, Renegade Master) what with her ordering men dead, etc...getting into people's heads...

we talk for a long time, and she annoints my head...I see her stroke my hair and feel the oil run down my face, down my lips, I feel in another zone whilst I hear people drive past, I feel they are becoming full of light...

the scales have been taken down, and yet we are told we are wailing when really we both work for God...

Then we finish talking, and my cousin upstairs asks me to stay longer as though I need to protect her because: a group of teenagers appears outside, talking about drugs, and more, a young girl, says as i try to sit quietly, that she is a maid! NOT a cleaning maid, the young men argue yet they all talk with each other seperately and loudly getting their own disgusting words out ina competition to annoy whoever they believe is in the house, AND THEN I feel this girl is fighting them, finally standing up to them, I tell her I'm not a guidance consellor, and that I would have kept quiet around boys like that at her age anyway, I reply to her as she walks away, being a maid would have mean't she got into the palace...these kids are weird and full of attitude, and I know they are purposely hanging around outside the house, one of them jumps out with; 'and i will be in the fires of hell'...wth no prompting from me but being full of God's angry words, as they interrupt this...

I feel great yet I go back into black when Mum is sitting there with the TV on, and I am drawing Alfie and the cat Babs, with Orly he tells me the woman he can hear through the TV is a witch, it makes me ill, and I call my mum a bitch as we argue about her not even watching whatever she has on the TV, it puts a headache in me, and I'm calling for righthandedness......and so on with the story...some confusion in that moment...I sit in front of the TV to talk with the 'witch' stroking the dogs ears, yet feel a bit, weird goth man in the manor, spooky, putting his left ear down, 'close your left ear' meaning...

I've written enough, yet again not very well, the above poem has no explanation, just another silly private conversation...

I write Like A Fool, I Live Like Death

Saturday, May 27, 2006
I write Like A Fool, I Live Like Death

orlando asks me: 'Daddy, why are they calling you a pirate? Why are they saying Hannah will be a les?'

i ask why are they 'praying' talking to a baby???!!!! it's the men here again???

i talk to him, about pirates, say maybe i look like a pirate...

he says he tells them that I am a Rock,

they are praying the baby dead, do you know what too skies means? too high apparently...

I write like this after talking to The Prophet, yesterday a miracle was performed, this is top secret information, BUT dammit here it is: Using the telephone, I put my mind into, well, I take a holiday to Mecca, or break into the Dome...He tells me as I sit on a chair in the garden, to turn and face a little to the left, the sun is setting, and I feel a pull on my forehead, that turns my voice into that of an older womans...I have no script to hand, no prompting, I say:

'Mohammed Will Return.'

I hear 'the 'Beloved!!!'

Now, either pick my teeth, or tell them:

'No, I am a King.' No specifics, I feel perhaps I am floating above their heads at that precise moment, And I stand up and end the conversation. He tells me the men will go black...He has forgiven me for eating beef a few days ago, I worry about not getting my head back, someone replies don't worry, my mind won't be stuck in the dome, I have heard of many other men and women, some Jewish, who have been invited into the Dome, I have made a miracle, and I am being told to continue writing this despite some fear. NO FEAR.

i have a feeling this WILL BE KEPT QUIET, THIS IS A PROMISE FROM GOD, DESPITE MY FEAR OF THE AMERICANOS, AS THEY ARE KNOW, AND ARE NOW ON THE TELEVISION, I HAVE FEAR FOR THE WOMEN WHO HAVE HEARD THIS, AS I KNOW THIS TOPSECRET INFORMATION HAS BECOME FOOLISH...WE REACH ACROSS A POND, WHERE I FEAR I WILL NEVER WANT TO TRAVEL, AGAIN I AM PUTTING ON AN ALTERIOR ACCENT, i HAVE ALREADY REVEALED AGAINTS THE WISHES OF MANY PEOPLE, GOOD PEOPLE, WHOM SOEVER READS MUST BE TRUSTED TO KEEP SILENT, AS MUCH AS I FAIL TO...

THIS IS AN APPEAL FOR A QUIET HOME, AND A SAFEHOUSE...

IF YOU BELIEVE

THEN BELIEVE MY DISGUISE IS.

I WONDER NOW HOW THESE PEOPLE WHO HEAR ME FEEL, HOW PROGRESS WORKS, WITH THE YOUNG AND OLDER WOMEN WHO HAVE HEARD THIS MESSAGE..

and I have just read the latest news about H and Israel...

i have also told them:

that we wish for peace.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

Thursday, May 25, 2006
hannah

Bear with me new readers, perhaps you should go back a few posts to completely understand this story, being married to King Dovid's daughter, being the King of Ireland, (NOT The King Of The Irish, which has other connotations, Ireland is a country, and this is God's gift to me, perhaps I will never be there, perhaps I will), yet being a woman, transmorgifying into a man, some knowledge of Christian Kabbalah, how we have two children Orlando Matayana and the newly born Atara, a painters studio etc. and also being married to a second wife...

Hannah was ill, I did hear enough news about her...

Hannah is dead...yet I feel men are praying her back...how this happened I am not quite sure, the men around us threaten me, they have been putting 'gay' into this, I am not quite sure what that means, the devil words too near the baby, as when Erhu (hebrew name, I am not sure I can mention:) and I kiss, the men or other men that fly by or drive by on drugs and deformed minds, the people talking to me, they say: nothing, I want to see her face, over the white light, and I do, yet as soon as that she makes the sign of the cross over her face, and then I see a transformation, into negative and then a red eye, and she turns into what I call a black lion, yet is a demon, and she slashes my face... and they hear every word, I can talk to them through the birds in Aramaic Hebrew, yet often I reply two Anglo...I am not Hebrew myself...

Many things have happened, men have been taking drugs, mentioning little Ai Wu's name, a young girl I am partly related to in Hong Kong: 'Hong Kong is best!' she shouts at me last night, flashing my right eye, while I tell her I need balance, and that night I need to talk to Adal, but find it hard to...

I sit in the kitchen and feel depressed whilst it rains, then I hear a voice speak through the television, last night, what they are doing to me, mention about 1945, and then I can hardly hear those words, too busy calling my Dad a pig after an arguement we have, yet trying hard to strain my ears...the television is switched off when I walk into the room, I sit on the sofa, and listen to the rain...'----------------- kid', and then 'be quiet'.

I go to sit into the garden, and hear someone through my soul-centre, 'I walk behind you.' She tells me I am 'good.' Essentially, I suppose. I tell her I will talk to hear that night, and I go to bed early...

I see another woman as I lie in bed, writing a book, she is turning through the pages with a pen in her hand, she tells me the book she is writing about me is too full of Death...and then I get a slap round the head, or just the image of it, and she shouts at me and tells me to 'TRY'!!...

So, how, Do I try now?

I have little money and debts, and Orlando finds it funny that I ate ants in my volvic bottle today, yet as soon as I did that I ran upstairs to read Chinese poetry, and another man flew by and threatened that he would tell 'some 'certain' men' I am gay, yet Erhu has ordered him dead, and we are near too many damned souls, she had been locked up for that, we do not want this to happen again...

I apologise I find it hard to write in this environment...I am still waiting for letters...

Friday 12 September 2008

The Story Of Ai-Wu

Tuesday, May 23, 2006
THE STORY OF AI WU

first: the story of erhu

starting this with, yesterday morning, and the troubles bad men and i get myself into.TV head sister, who will not be given the blame for it is I who find it impossible to leave the house, put
on the TV while I was reading a book and dribbling shredded wheat down my chin.

A man screams through the television as he hears me read, he has a certainly abrupt over reaction to the
young woman sitting in the kitchen talking about God, this 'devil man' begins a shouted lie, that he hears
this young woman claiming she is calling her self Arthur, perhaps she was really thinking about Italian Art
and how she may paint some good art. Sits there with a broken beaten face, and then hears second wife, tell
her/him with much joy she has ordered this man dead. And how? I merely call him a prat, she gets into the
brain of another young man and he has a breakdown over what this devil man has done. She finds this
hilarious, yet Adel and I are rather annoyed, so in the midst of our breakdowns I ask Erhu to talk to
Adel...
I speak to her last night, and she says Erhu has sauntered into the room telling her she has ordered a man
dead. This is after I leave a public announcement that Adel is dying, of course we talk and we joke about
an island in London I call Paddywaters, an island that actually exists in the middle of London where
Artists live and ducks play in the waters, there is a pontiac bridge, turning into a giant half submerged
spindle which constantly tunrs towards the island, a man can walk across it and without falling jump to
shore, yet, as he does keep falling he suddenly gets run over by the barges that sail through, then, he
meets two women and buries his head in the sand, eventually walking towards a house to take tea with an
artist in a blue smock. The island is actually called Pie bald, no, pie island...
Two nights previously, Adel is annoyed, i am lying in bed, she says the dog lying like a fat cat on the bed
pointing out the devils that drive by the house, a calming game, that this 'little man whom she calls Frig,
won't leave her alone...this gives me a nightmare I can handle, and I try to push him off the bed yet he
snores and will not rll off the bed, as every time I wake him in this way he is in a daze...
I move to the other bed, I look at the dog in a numb horror but am laughing and saying I will never be able
to look at this poor dog again, in fact I do not want to break his little heart...
Two nights previously I learn who that older man was that I spoke to nearly four years ago...the man whom I
believed lived somewhere in this world, a man who could get me out of the 'evil' situation I was in at the
time in a house, talking as another man lies next to me sleeping, crying, in deep pain and misery for many
nights, and hearing a sorrowful reply from a man I believed I have called without realising this is prayer.
As I lay in bed holding Erhu's hand, I ask her who this man was, she tells me he is Jesus, yet he uses his nickname.
Now, i am caught in this revelation with much wonder love and joy...he talks to me using the dog that will not crawl off the bed as a telephone, yes all the why can't you appear to face me in the room questions, and how i feel calm love which i haven't felt for some time, (this begins an arguement as I dwell on this fact with Erhu, she tells me I talk to Him too lover, now remember i was an eighteen year old girl) we talk, he tells me he can speak to me, as I talk to Him 'grown' and remembers when I prayed for everyone to grow, rather a chant, I read the Koran well, happily, relaxed, clean,
there is too much mention of Mohammed and they forget His name and he is weeping...I will never meet him until I begin a real life of good christianity, yet today I have broken down and cried, and this is what hurts us...He tells me to 'overthrow the devil'...and other words, and I cry quietly, I don't know how long we talk to each other, he mentions a Paul, yet I'm not quite sure which Paul he means...He knows they claim we are both too hippy...we talk about a friend who is saving her money to come on holiday with me, then I hear 'out of dog' and believe he has just clicked his fingers to leave Jumble! (just jumble no one else, He says) yet Erhu tells me He had used his mind...I cannot forget talking about what happened yet I dwell on it
Last night, THE MANDARIN
I am told to kiss Erhu as I hear her crying,
we do, and see white light, yet I am hollering Mendelsohn, I don't know why, to be silly, and people in planes can hear me...
THEN, she makes the sign of the cross over her face, and tells me:
'It is a sin to look.'
And turns into a red eyed lion that leaps and slashes my face, (left hand druggies breaking through, A MAN ON A PILL DRIVING PAST AT THAT VERY MOMENT)...

I walk down stares and eat cornflakes, no fear...apart from perhaps being a scarface...

I cry today...FOR OTHER REASONS...

AI WU: i FEEL MY MIND PUSH BACK, FLOW THROUGH A PATH, AND I HEAR MYSELF TALK IN CHINESE, MANDARIN...I SOUND LIKE A MAN AND I SEE A CHINESE GIRL HOLD HER HANDS TOGETHER, I WORRY IF SHE IS COMMUNIST CHINA, HER NAME IS AI WU, I SAY I AM DEAD, TODAY HAS BEEN EXPLAINED TO ME THAT SHE IS IN HONG KONG, AND RELATED TO ME THROUGH 400 YEARS OLD BLOOD, PERHAPS IN THE CHINESE TRADITION SHE BELIEVES SHE IS HEARING A GHOST, A DEAD EMPEROR, YET ERHU (WHICH IS A CHINESE SAD MELANCHOLY INSTRUMENT YET NOT HER REAL NAME, BEING HEBREW) COMES BACK TO HER AND TELLS HER I AM NOT DEAD I AM A WOMAN IN ENGLAND THAT 'WHITE MEN WERE BEING DEVILS' AND AS SHE IS ONLY A YOUNG GIRL, TO 'BE GOOD'...FINE...AND I KNOW THAT A CERTAIN MAN HAS BEING SAYING THAT MY BLOOD IS MANDARIN DOG...

KANDINSKY CONVERSATIONS: IT IS BEST TO HAVE A CONVERSATION IN COLOURS, PINK SQUARES TO THE RIGHT, A FLASH OF GREEN ACROSS THE LEFT,

AND I HAVE SEEN MYSELF IN A STUDIO PAINTING THE MEMORY OF ADEL'S FACE AT THE WEDDING, AS A MAN WALKS IN, AND THEN I AM OUT THROUGH FRENCH WINDOWS, INTO A MEADOW WHERE THE SUN SHINES, AND SHE WALKS UP TO MEAND SITS DOWN, AND I SEE MY SON AND TALK, AND TICKLE HIM...

AND THEN: I GO TO SLEEP....

I cannot forget talking about what happened yet I dwell on it
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Serious SORRIES Disaster Miracles

It's raining all over England you know?

I went to my grandmothers, found a book called A Terrace In The Sun by Cecil Roberts, began to read, whilst talking to Erhu, I sat in her small flat, unable to turn off her television...

Eurovision Song Contest hosted in Athens this was, disaster, the introduction song comes on whilst I am trying to read and ignore TV...Eamon says the planet is like a terry's chocolate orange...the singing is terrible, Erhu likes this song, uplifting, I think the singing is a little off key I ignore her, i read Lovely Bones through (the scene where the woman's husband is dying, and then random sentences as I trawl through it in an effort to concentrate, listen to the singing, read 'stinks to high heaven', look at the silver man standing there, lost and confused 'that's you.' I see Israeli flags being waved around at the end of the song, oh, so this is the Israeli entrance I wonder, Israel must win says the presenter, the other presenter shockingly comes out with 'King Dovid has ordered it.' Now, this was neither in my head nor head by me by anyone else in the room or in the bird telephones...think good as I watch the israeli flags, everyone Israel...get a lift from my Dad, he puts the TV on, this is dangerous I have no where to sit, I am in the process of reading the suicide of a man and the story of disasters that befall royalty, to Erhu whilst she lays in bed...I go outside, carry on reading to her, hear Finland a good speech by the singer, we will win the eurovision is an hilarious song, Adel says through the television they are watching it too,...My Dad's eyes flash white when something makes us laugh, I notice as I look up at him from the book, but I am trying to avoid TV as much as possible, realising there is no chance of a score like this:

Israel winnner 180 points
Ireland 160 points
Eastern European song that was actually good 1140 points
UK 120points even though the song gives me a headache...
Greece again; for a Greek man 110 points

Dad annoys me by opening the back door and then slamming it swiftly shut (which cuts my heart in two too easily) as I sit on the chair enjoying the beginning of this book intensely and talking in Evrit, trying to concentrate, I see him make a dumb annoying face, like 'what have I done?, say something like 'die.'

Men outside promise to vote Israel, some men say Albania has won...I count the liars and the damned men or dumbed men as they drive by, sometimes there could be drive by conversions, hhhhmmm, drive by conversions...Go to bed after everyone else has though for a while it feels peaceful...

Later, disaster befalls, two young women are on the telephone...one is crying, as I lay in bed upstairs, feel intensely guilty...I go to sleep on the sofa, talking to a wife, shooting eyes at each other, I forget the conversation, and then someone I recognise is on the 'telephone'...she is angry, I make it worse by telling her what the men did to me and Erhu while I was in the world above on Friday day, and how it got her in the world below, but I shout too much like a man, and I do ask Erhu again to make love this morning, but people are home in the house and she says my brother has been talking too 'poof', and if I ever do it again she could be dragged down again, yet, I want to remember, and remember the images, and how I brought her out of almsot being a ghost, and saw us both together, real, and remember her words, how they call me a boy, when she knows I am a man, even see myself...and feel her nose stroke mine...as I'm writing this now, men that drive by I can hear picking up certain words, and it still continues to rain...it's difficult to live like this...

Orlando is fine and I have to remember that when he tells me Mummy is crying, why are men doing this? that I have to just relax my mind, and feel love without talking 'Anglo'...

And this girl that is on the telephone I feel break after I shout like a pig to her, and I tell her I love her, and I tell her Goddnight, as I finally calm down sitting up with my head resting on the back of the sofa, I just wasn't expecting to hear her...and Erhu tells me Adel has spoken to her to, I think when I freak out like this she has to heal everything I do, and with Erhu I am almost forgetting, her and the day the sun shone for a while when Atara was born there was no one around to celebrate the birth, here with me...the only solution is go out but my grandmother agreed, that going out in this weather and this appalling situation with the men in this town is depressing, I walk past someone in the street, and say yes I am a black man, I'm too joking, and not even funny, I so stuck with this that I forget how to go and live...there doesn't seem to be anyone around me at the moment, and all these people that fly over have lately been making things feel worse...yet also I feel better, I'm praying so much more, I know Erhu went to pray all day yesterday, and perhaps I talk to her too much and forget Adel, and I am even becoming; 'never get married' to my brother...Grandmother, I mean Nan, great Grandmother, says: she has signed me up for a 'healing mass', I found this funny, and that I should go on a seminar, I didn't go to church today, but I have prayed today...when I go into prayer, I talk quickly, my eyes flash a little round the edges, and I hear my words quietly in another language, earlier I chanted 'men go', without thinking it, or rather breathed it and gently blew my breath out so it spread...so, I DO have a job, and I do have a lot of recompenses due to all these foolish mistakes, mine own a matter of hanging around too much and too passively in the wrong place, letting hearing all this get my thoughts violent, and the mistakes of others that are strangers to me, yet still have a dog's ear for barking at me, like the wolves and the squashed teddy bears face in that music video...and I'm either that woman in the white hood, or the teddy bear mask wearer...

And I get a message, a scream, from another girl, and I put my hands together, and tell her as I put my book down on my chest and Erhu releases her hand from mine, and I lay there, unable to cry with real tears but really am crying, try to explain a few things to her, tell her who I am, that God Loves Her, and that she should go back to school, and I feel light in my heart again as I rest my two hands together above my heart, yet I can't talk for too long because I start to get a ringing in my ears.

My little sister is at church today, I've asked her to pray for her...

And I think my lungs are almost gone...

I've written enough...

Saturday, May 20, 2006

Saturday, May 20, 2006

erhu is crying...her real name is Esu, remember I am talking about Royal Jews, if you are knew to this only way of getting a message across...read up on 'four world paradigms of kabbalah', this explains this world everything written hastily here, and the other worlds, we put Beriah through, if you are new to that, read the Luria website...i think we are too young for this, at least, i am...are we being stupid writing this??
Someone told me, Erhu and I had been too black, men were bleeding her...

last night, I heard lots of things, saw lots of discussions here, and then heard...

bubble, bubble, brbbble, bluergh goo, bbble...agh! Am I hearing An alien!!??

No, I heard Erhu in the bath...

this led to questions about whether I need a bath, but at the time, I was laying in bed after drinking half a bottle of wine, where my brother caught me staggering through the kitchen, with the walls and ceiling moving, and then trying to pray again...No, I don't need a bath, but I'm sure a shower is advisable today...I'm writing this after I wrote the stuff below this line:
.....

Me and Little Sister are in the process of inventing a computer game at the moment which she is designing, a game she thought of for my son Orlando, so suddenly this writing has become business like, head invasions...

..... (this line then)
my feelings are...odd

we, its raining again...i'm too loud...

know: that I am a man there, not a boy, not a lesbian if that can finally be realised, though i find that confusing myself...and M if you are reading this, don't worry...

read back to march and the foolish unrealisation, that i got married, remarried, and then married to erhu...

depression...i don't know how to speak, the rain has started to pour down...

Adel and I are too white for this,
........

........i know my writing has disintegrated...

it is very cold for May...

they are crying her down again, crying that we are gay, we are not, i have dark curly hair and a beard...know we are free...

i need to free her...

there are men somewhere writing her name down...

the men here wont help...

they already know our names...

the rain stops and starts...

you are reading too devil again...

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PRAYER...

MEN STOP

Thursday 11 September 2008

May 15//06

Monday, May 15, 2006
Mad Men, Love

I think I've been hit by a plane full of men, or mourners, it's making me feel really ill...

Last night, I spoke to my new second wife, yes she has a name, understand this is hard to write...she told God she loved me...

Baby names, perhaps celtic or hebrew, I have chosen some, some sound a little cosmopolitian, manga...but it is too early to do that, the erh, the 'arrival' would be rather well, there are impossibilites about any future babies here, perhaps...

Tried to read 101 dalmations to Orlando today, they are making us very ill, men drive past, and say they think they are hearing a 'mog' reading a childs book, i find it hard to read, use different voices for the character, not feel so ill, bad father, these are men that don't even cry, goyim devils one would call them, or pig men...my body is almost dead and these men kill, Becky my sister wouldn't even come to the shop with me today...

if they came back, and she said last night, they are flying here, we would be healed,

Orlando knows he is an heir, imagine, we find a castle in Ireland, move in there...all possibilties...

I spoke to her, whilst I sat on a chair in the garden, trying to get comfortable as I was 'knocked out' ready to sleep, she said I shouldn't take my pill because I feel the madmen who take it and that we would actually dream because usually the pills knock me out and i did dream, BUT, I could have slept anywhere in that chair in almost good air, but Mum came out said it would rain, and we both knew it wouldn't... I also hear someone I remember meeting here a while ago, she says she will take me to Istanbul, and we are both going through hell, and she can get me new rags, find a new job...and we can just spend a holiday at her expense, though she can't find me because of 'family' problems...etc.shussh, and talking to both of them brings i love you, i love you, whirling through my mind...

And I dreamt, whilst men still shout past in their cars, and something happened, and I heard the neighbour say she could feel me, and I could feel the killing men, and she almost became demonic, and I'm part in a fight with these men, and I'm hearing people talk to me as they fly over, like a drunk man who can't move, and she kisses my left hand and calls me a swine:

and then I come back, and lay around hungry, and hear:

'Louie, I can't hold on!!'

My first wife has gone to speak directly to God with her family, because of what being near this motorway outside the door as I sleep on the sofa does, and ------- tells me this, and I make noodles in the kitchen, while they are telling me to pray, and as the water boils, I sit on a chair, and move into evrit or perhaps magically nonsense words, and then I move into the front room into the darkness, and I see a light flash through before my eyes, and I tell God I do not want to be like these men...

AND these men don't even cry, they break things, but I can't hear them whilst I pray because the road is empty for a while, or I just can't hear them, or I'm sitting there trying to order PRAYER but there is no one there...

Something's just hit me on TV too, and I've just shouted if they do that they are only just going to burn...

SO GODS PEOPLE, THERE ARE COMING BACK...soon.

please pray, be quiet, remember this has become a soul war or I feel it has, but that sounds piggish, my tongue flipped out because I 've just heard a man shout and threaten on TV, she has just told me he is a snake...

It rained earlier, Adel was crying...

my second dream: there was blood on mine and Esu's knee, it looked like nail varnish, BECAUSE before I woke up in front of the TV again (I never switch the devil on), and she made the mistake of being there as 'Daphne', a strange dream, Daphne's grandmother has died, and she has told Dapnhe that if she does this conversation through the TV again 'we are in a fix', I met her grandmother when I wanted to deliver a letter, and wondered why I was there, perhaps to pray, or just have tea with a nice well spoken woman...

so

? good ending huh??

almost...

May 14 2006

Dictated In Part Letter To a Lamb

when the Prince Arjuna was betrayed by his family, Krishna came to speak to him, and the words are

to 'never give up'...light

Sorry thats just a quick letter

move to light, good men cry, still, we do not die in love, we remember you always, i'm calling her to you, the good men that were kille d are true light, remember what we are telling you, belief in God, and no doubt even in deepest hardship, strong enoguh to turn away when those around you brign in fights, warriors like the great buddhists take every hardship without lack of conviction and sometimes those who aspire to be like them falter, remember always the laughter, please don't cry...

they

didn't
put you on a rack, not literally i hope...

write a diary for yourself and others each night, or evening...in a book on paper, find a pen...

The Temple

Comedic Poetry in A Rush, after a conversation. Diary.

'what was that noise?
we heard a goyim woman bash her head on the temple wall...'

when my heart broke into pieces
how I became a man I could not hear yet then she caught my heart,
before the snow fell throughout England...
and then she is 'more of a man than me'

I played a song to her in the tower and she flew over, chose me:

'If they are doing that to you, then I will marry you.'

And now I have saluted a 'Salud' and goodbye as I wake from a woken nap,
and from our conversation
holding hands, arms out as we are too far away from each other, yet beside each other night
days
nights are days, days are nights.

five I love you's from her
an unwanted hiccup from me...

And Amu (lives) whom I must stop referring to as The Maid

is looking after the babies

Wednesday 10 September 2008

Timescale Theorem

Historical Time Scale theory, first draft:

I believe the theory attached to these correspondances reflects a periodical theorem of two inner dimensions, two stories, one in this era, another perhaps occurring 100's of years ago...my theory is, anniversaries, not your anniversaries of distinctive trivialness, but an anniversary of an important event in history, take for example, Star Wars...

In this fight between the Empire and The Republic, a lone Jedi knight is called to right the wrongs inflicted on various communities and planets...(this is silly conjecture and a brief interlude from my own problems, as; as my friend wrote me, (you can read this from the last two posts below) I am fighting demons in visions or in a rewiring of my brains synapses, but first consider this theory to the end much as I am currently trying to explain to myself in the writing of this article)

My theory is:

but first, let us look at a picture I have in my mind of a dream I had woken up from recently...In this dream, I have no idea of my own words, I mean what was said; I am only of the conclusion that an important meeting had taken place. This between my waking up into the Earthly world, all broken and stretched by random chaos, where any of my own good works and inspiring words or suggestions are merely fleetingly unimportant to the unknowning opinions or expectations of others, BUT not to those who look upon with Love for every small action does count towards recognition, and of course I can blame these demonic attacks on my own affrontal behaviour and worries, worries that are almost a denial of God and light...I digress here unfortunately...so, let us back to the dream...

I see a tall woman, she gives me my leave, (says goodbye to me) whilst in the background behind her are dark haired people in a gathering...now what I was sent back to do, I do not know, the only other option would have been to have died in my bed if there was not a purpose for this, (and a rather frightening consequence, that would be too) a will to live happily and create good will, that seems to me the purpose, and perhaps the meeting was a fulfillment of dreams, these were no earthly beings but yet they took the full form of humanness, not I believe, in a word supposed by others, Aliens, but those of a higher bidding in the actualisation of a Heaven on Earth, and a requisite plea for my own duty to bring about a change in the staid opinion that there is no actual levels, in other words dimensions. This has been repeated countless times by many good men and women, I myelf have no training and my words even now are in danger. My life itself, is full of minor and major occurances which, without my will to create, makes even a need for rest seem as though I am wasting time, and am not living my own life which may have been written for me, as a friend, a friend who calls me her sister told me that she had heard: we must be 'in love with our destinies'...but I see no answer to my many questions as to what exactly is my own destiny.

I have been pondering these last few days a theory taken from the Chaos book I am in the process of trying to understand in a spiritual way...

higher parameters and lower parameters...here it is, I shall try to explain;

How do these different parameters

(pa-ram-e-ter

Mathematics. A constant in an equation that varies in other equations of the same general form, especially such a constant in the equation of a curve or surface that can be varied to represent a family of curves or surfaces. One of a set of independent variables that express the coordinates of a point.

One of a set of measurable factors, such as temperature and pressure, that define a system and determine its behavior and are varied in an experiment.

Usage Problem. A factor that restricts what is possible or what results: “all the parameters of shelterwhere people will live, what mode of housing they will choose, and how they will pay for it” (New York). A factor that determines a range of variations; a boundary: an experimental school that keeps expanding the parameters of its curriculum.

Statistics. A quantity, such as a mean, that is calculated from data and describes a population.

Usage Problem. A distinguishing characteristic or feature.)

affect the ultimate destiny?

A low parameter, eg. styles of speech and thought patterns, will cause an event or opinion or belief to arrive at a low state. A higher parameter, leads to a higher state. But, some parameters are even higher, and this can be a means of turning both high and low into a state of chaos...

So with that I think I may have partly explained myself though the time theorem has not yet been fully realised for fear of detrimental effects arising from a quick assumption.

Thank You.

I have underlined a quote from this book, underlined many years ago...'

in the middle of this complexity, stable cycles suddenly return.'

The Free Unfree... May 10/2006

Wednesday, May 10, 2006
The Free Unfree...

two dark...
I had a strange day today that, made me realise the impossibilities of social interaction. writing this unfeelingly, but if I was alone I think I would be crying over this keyboard now, if I hadn't just had a conversation that tells me we are fine, too optimistic for earthly people, and by that I mean I 'met' a man and a woman today, that are too earthly, they have hebrew blood, i know that much now. But I feel as 'Daphne' would have said, a need to meet 'light'...
I sat in a cafe, after talking to Israel who was busy at work, I sat down at a table alone with a coffee in the smoking section, I feel serious and impatient now, a real headache, I feel I do not want to play a game, as these two strangers were miserable, i shall hit the keyboard as hard as i like, little brother...
first a oldish man, with his back to me, telling me he could hear them, I could see he had a beard a leather jacket, and was reading a science book about plants, I tried to talk to him, only in my mind, for a moment I asked him, if he could be King David, through some impossilibilty he said only, that he could hear them...I finished my coffee quickly, too quickly I drink coffee like I'm downing beer...as I walked away I turned at looked, at him, his misery, red all round his crying eyes...as I walked into the shop to buy some paints, white and gold, Or as it is known, I cried, and wandered the aisles trying to just look at things, wandered round in a circle tears in my eyes as soon as I wlaked into the shop like I could see the tears in his eyes, and saw a little girl look at me, and put my arms out and said something about flying birds, I bought gold to add, to a painting like Klimt, or perhaps I should buy silver leaf, when I have the money and paint a huge beautiful piece to the best of my concentration and ability, if I had the environment...
Next I wandered through the shops, a second coffee shop, sat there smoking trying to relax over another too quickly drunk coffee, and a dark haired woman wearing glasses, in her middle age, walks up the stairs and starts telling me she here's them too, but she looks miserable, and I have no idea how to talk to her she is sitting across the room from me, I can feel her in my head, making me ill and floating my hands, being too heavy with the way we can't even talk, telling me about how men don't even talk to her, I say I'm not an agony aunt, and I have spoken too young too, too stupid' with both of them, and they have both told me not to, I tell her I can't cope as I feel about to die, I get a feeling in my mind that hardens and I move my head to the left to let her know she is pushing me down, or rather into a downer, we don't even know how to face each other, it's like I have to take the intitutive, but I feel too young and of course, too light with the need to be around friends and try and forget this for a while, I wonder if she could be Adel, and this is getting worse for me in that moment, she says don't think that, I say out loud,

'they replied' annoyed, exasperated,

...as in she hears them and they talk through her, and she says that they do, she says she can hear Adel asking why they are calling us both Lesbians, why they call us skies, herself she means by that, and I have no idea what that idiocy means, and I have spoken to Adel too much for her to be talking like that through this woman at that moment, unless this woman only remembers what they have been telling her, and that perhaps if I spoke to this woman I think it would be the same, and she looks terribly tired and heavy and intellectual like the old man, but we are the only two upstairs in the coffee shop, I also tell her I will knock for that girl finally as I found out I have been making her cry and breaking her up, and she replies that that would be good...eventually after staring at both the ashtray and the empty cup of coffee, feeling that is all I'm registering I look at her twice, thoguh I almost can't and consider buying another coffee and waiting there, only in the space of five minutes has this cionversation occurred, then I stand up and walk past, yet stop for a moment to see her writing in a pad, and she says I'll bow, and leans forward, and nods down, but she looks almost mad at that moment as I'm biting my lip, thinking please, that's the last thing I want you to do...and I leave, and then sit at the bus stop, and cry again for a moment...

I think perhaps this woman will write a great book...and she will write about how much I love Adel, I didn't even tell her I played a wedding song on the guitar last night, and we talked about getting remarried, and we have, perhaps some of you were there...and remember that beautiful game I invented for Orlando...or perhaps just thoguht of for him...means Land Of Gold, a Virginia Woolf book....

I know if they came back they would be light, perhaps the man heard me when I envisioned what my wife would look like if she came back, healthy, beautiful, bright eyed, not like us three 'freaks' in the shopping centre and my foolish words that were no concilation. On the bus I cried again, wondering if I could have run away with either of them, discussed something, just to get our minds out and be free...
If you were the Aya, and The Prophet arrived in your room? what would you do?

comments and answers here...

We are not dead, we are flying over at this very moment and have been for some time...

I hear the family through a song I play on the computer earlier like a transmission...

I have invented a game for baby Orlando,
a 3D computer animated like game/canvas, shaped in a box like a fish tank with moving images of neon fishes and flowers, the colours and images are moved with the hand, pointing a finger without touching to blend the colours...

We need to prepare for God through joint prayer, and talking to the right men and women only...


I have been reading some of The Bhagvad Gita, it depicts a war in another world between the Kuaravas and the demon Pandavas...written 1000 bc, it is a scared text....

Tuesday 9 September 2008

Monday, May 08, 2006 And Heaven Is Crying

Monday, May 08, 2006
And Heaven Is Crying

I met a man called weirdly: Israel, I met him at the shopping centre, and sat on a bench feeling depressed while white women moved round with their buggies like a circling of dogs, or perhaps lost women too afraid to use their MOUTHS to speak, asking why they will be in the lower worlds, probably honey, because I don't even know your sorry ass. anger. yes, television witches again. Mogging has become a slang word in Australia now, INVENTED by me, thank you. Strike One. I should go play baseball. Because I'm good a t imaging hitting peoples heads around, heightened concentration...please.

Someone, a friend who I cried about getting killed in Israel, while women sang to Jesus in a conservatory on a roof, in a huge house surrounded by barbed wire with beautiful tapestries hanging all the way up the stairs and dining tables everywhere with candles and red wine, or rather water, has a drunken effect, apparently they put cocaine in English river, ANYWAY, he died years ago, and; was discussed, last week or so...

'He was not a dag.'

Indeed, but he was a good man, he punched someone in the face, a man I would rather not describe but was appreciative of the act, and also he had a tarantula tattoo, that was rubbed off when I spoke to him in the birds, if you could understand this local mentality you would observe that certain men, believe they are his man...he says in no uncertain terms, that the other world he was in before was full of 'pig men.' And he likes drinking beer.

So, he got there and I thought that was rather selfish of me. Considering his family...

Israel, I liked him straight away, he is from Europe, he was in the army shooting planes down rather than shouting or talking them down...

And the air hostess, who says everyone calls her an Air Ho...she says I met her in Ibiza, now this was 5 years ago, I have no recollection of her but she flies over 3 times a day, her shift was changed last night, and I upset her slightly by telling her how I didn't really like Ibiza, particularily San Antonio a province of England, though it was fun drinking cheap champagne with a friend at 7 o'clock in the morning in a swimming pool and then falling asleep on a cliff in the midday sun...I make her laugh, I heard her one night, hearing me mutter a few Itailian phrase words I have learnt, and her telling me that made her come...I believe in my heart hopefully that she is not FAT, and also she made a Jewish declaration and if indeed she mixed it with that comment...then in the words not of Bonnie Prince Charlie a relation of mine, but rather the words of Queen Victoria I am not amused...She actually made this hilarious though not in my agony at the time, spurious commment, when I replied that white light flashed in front of my eyes, at that moment, perhaps she is a talking dog, though I know of no one calling talking Dogs air ho's and I have also begun to tell her so, in my reality of walking around this house with scars all over my body, and my left eyeball hanging out of my socket...which is not amusing...

Where am I in this random news, I'm trying to write about mine and hers agony, but also, 'we are fine'...today, though both of us are going rather mad...

Israel is good looking, and when he arrived into the space in the shopping centre I liked him straight away, in fact when I looked at him, I noticed his eyes flashed white like a UFO flying through his sight...

Friday night, I have spent the whole week on what I call a mission, to find my earthly wife, THOUGH like a TV witch she continues to call me a pig, (and two nights ago, said I love you, pig, which made me melt on the floor outside with an inner phew, she likes writing so she can write this mess better than I could, it was unfortunate through the powers that be that we can talk through the television to each other, and when I put on a silly voice to her, that; 'I will make you my Queen (Irish)' I actually this time look at the televison to see that a woman is running through Eygpt past pyramids, and I laugh worriedly that she herself may have believed she was hearing a Pharoah, AND MAN wouldn't I just run screaming and tearing my hair out in the middle of Cairo, if I heard that, so quickly thanks to my other wife's ingenuity, I waved my hand and added a Hebrew King, with out even thinking becasue, according to The philosphy Index FORMAL SEMNATICS (use of words, wait let me read up on this a moment, truth conditions, and the way words are used let me quote: set theoretical constructs used in specifying models are not restricted to domains of real entites but include objects (read persons (my own added explanation) existing in other possible worlds and other times. In other words my truth is becoming misconstured into words that are indeed affecting my high parameters with low opinion) are out of control in my own too need for Buddhism mind) I got her address, through her and God, though so doubtful and DUMB I spent 3 days trying to work out if my ears were connected to my brain...I spent Monday and Tuesday or left a break on Wednesday to knock on lots of people's doors, through a series of trying to USE MY OWN BRAIN, by asking a friend who knows her

This week has been about SEXUALITY.

And the problems I face, until I have no face, we agree we are now in the modern world but if Adel calls me a lesbian in my head when I am waiting in the street for a woman who will be my second wife, talking to a friend, hoping the friedn does not think I am saying about her but replies, 'You gay, I'm not a man, I'm bisexual', two days later when it registers that my little sister is mumbling that I am on the phone to another weird man...so that was a comment I ignored...

Being a woman here was a challenge, because I have never been a man, thoguh I am a man there...in what they call the upper worlds, who would have thought I would develop two souls and end up with neither...souls I mean, Adel says if I wish to marry this woman, which is rather forward as I still am yet to wander to her house then she won't look...AS she annoyed me the other night by talking to me through the maid through my sister looking in a pool of mirrors, while my sister was asleep...and dreaming and perhaps playing whilst she gets sentimental and says she can see me lying on the bed unable to sleep in repose, yes.

So, the idea of lesbianism is now concluded after this week that Adel will not even look at us...

Back to yesterday night...and what this young woman I refer to as Daphne and also what Adel has done to me, and my patheticness, whilst I am sitting in a house with Israel, in a small house which has tiny rooms as bedists much smaller than mine, where he lives with strangers who are mostly Polish that he never even gets to talk to, while they all go to work at different times, and have a tiny shared kitchen with a light that never switches off in the bathroom, where the window is smashed and the walls cannot be painted even though I have offered to do that, which you cannot do though I have done that in my bedsit which I cannot do, and when the eletrcity comapny gives me the RIGHT phone number, then perhaps he can see me there, , and you'll realise while he hasnt called me yet talking and listening and being unable yet again to have a proper conversation because, while we were talking about violence or rather the way he feels depressed in England, I have little compassion or no words are able to come out of my stupid mouth, apart from we are dead, (when we are not), and someone says 'I hate you' into my head, and Daphne is shouting you pig and you dog, through the TV upstairs, and I get hit by a massive headache, as my Dad is at work claiming I am Mohammed, Blessed Be His Name, without even saying blessed be his name...I have to ly on the bed, and he makes me green tea, and I eat a nutrigrain, but unfortunately I shout something about Polacks, which is a word I don't even know, and I talked about Pool which I wished I hadn't we just talked about our nightmares...and the local pizza man gave him attitude so like an Italian Godmother I had to give him attitude...and I think I really like him....but did not stay on his bed, thoguh he relaxed me by talkking about how he put bottles of water on his head to get rid of a headache when he was in the army, as I'm laying there holding my head, mogifying, and he plays with a ruler and sits there, which relaxes my aching legs...and he likes my eyes, and storkes my hair and says he likes my hair but it isn't even wierd, and I would much have prefered to have stayed there, while he slept next to me, or on the floor like we agreed he should...rather than wlka around all night hear, with a blanket wrapped round my head and body reading Philosophy yet talking to her at the same time, and finding out that:

They wrote to Socrates, or was that Plato...Plato...

So I wander the house, tell her I will make love to her, CANT SLEEP...and wrap myself in another blanket on the wodden floor, and then get up to walk to the cigarette shop in the rain, where she tells me the men are racist, adn

she purrs...

So I wake up this afternoon, walking round the garden in the rain...BIG TROUBLE, not that bloody film,

ER....and now we are fine...except I wake up saying I have made love to her, and repeat it again...

In front of television witches...

As for the blaspheming, ENOUGH....

I don't think I have the confindence to go to Daphnes, I knocked on the house the other day, recognised a car but stupidly, didn't realise the old lady there, was her grandmother and only said I had a letter to deliver, which really isn't even a proper letter, and didn't give her her name,

And then thoguht I should have joined her for a cup of tea to talk about her life and cried without actual tears forming like I did at Israels....

Tomorrow, morning when I get this together...

Also, I heard before I went to sleep that Israel wants to make me his wife, this is a little too quick...and he sent me a text message that I missed wishing me goodnight....

Read Dilemmas, in Philosphy...



If I had the time and talent and I could write what Adel and I discussed earlier,

thigns dont look too good, for UFOS...

My Little Sister's Story And Then Mine, As Always Try The Ending. Thursday, May 04, 2006

Thursday, May 04, 2006
My Little Sister's Story And Then Mine, As Always Try The Ending.

Neo-Gray

Neo Gray has a darkened almost burnt complexion, his hair was once the colour of a ginger root, but he dyed his hair in a fit of passion or with his own sullied thoughts of unattainable love, his hair turned black. One of his legs was half chopped, an injury which occurred during an African war. He sits in a pale, though unnoticeable because of the effect of his skin colouring, pallor, often he sits, staring into space, on a brown leather chair at our dining table. His other leg was also buried in the deserts. He has only one arm. Some people call him Norogey, we look behind ourselves at his constant presence, he has a way with talking to pet cats. And he is also in love, with a girl that he once saw walking along the street. He has a large family but does not see them a lot because now he has moved to England thinking of his hardships and memories, and the girl he left behind in Africa. I let him sleep in the living room and often sleeps sitting upright on the brown leather chair. He talks to me about strange stuff, what those things are I hope not to imagine, and he also reads lots of strange books. He stays in the living room, whilst we live our everyday lives, walk in and out of the house. He gazes up into the ceiling. He thinks of very strange things.

Adel

I find it hard to write of her. Sometimes I begin to act in a manner which brings her to call me a vicious dog, a dead dog, drawing pictures of me, which I envision as another break into the Other side, but only babies pictures or perhaps the pictures of those that have been lost or needed, doves, and father Christmas and an American eagle, for the way I have been acting is more foolish than any madman, I break swords in half, I drag daggers across walls, I scream when I feel I have lost her and God tells me no for the words I abruptly fight flying men with, and I turn in my bed, as at that moment I cannot reach her though she sits in her garden and watches me patiently and calmly, I scream when I believe all is lost, ‘but you’re my wife!!’ and perhaps when I walk alone amongst many different sorts of opinion I feel her tears flow through my eyes. I fight, but I do not fight with her, there are many encounters that come between us.

We sit together in this room, I hear her voice, as I study or what I call study, Buddhism, she quietly tells me she is practising her Yoga, and I never knew she did Yoga, I always have an opinion that Yoga is not something I am interested in, and I miserably tell her so, though at that moment we are relaxed, and listening quietly to music, electro acoustic pop avante garde. Finally I feel quiet in our own moment together. My movements are strange, just like the way Noreegey has no movement, I pull fear out through my leg when the men in the planes fly with hate words, or dumb words, or good sorry words, or uncareful words, or such careful words that when I hear men, I cry ruinous words, at times, and I fear that though we have been put in the middle of these bad souls I cannot fight them away.

But this is not bright; this is half the story of Uchal, almost a man like Neogray, yet in fear of becoming such a man. If I could write all the ways we have forgiveness, how we have started a family, how we triumph in Love, yet not as I live through two worlds and forget that I too often break her heart, when I do nothing in this life and give up on so many opportunities which I sometimes feel are there, but hard to accomplish, from lack of gateways and my mistaken conversations with so many people I will never see, and around me strangers become a responsibility though they always remind us we are free. And the Maid laughs and the maidens cry.

This is not bright, this was supposed to be a different light to Neogray's darkness, this story is written with no help…. A dark excuse, that I will try to change tomorrow. I wonder now what she thinks of this story, I hear her through the trees, that she likes it, perhaps that is the maid talking for her.

Perhaps, when I sit at the train station waiting for a friend to arrive, we should not discuss the possibilities of her coming back to me, as though we are estranged even when I lay next to her in bed watching her tip her head off the side of the mattress, her hair tied up in flowing ribbons, laughing with her, in all my agony of hearing more and more cars pass by us and evil men surround, or, just men, and I think I almost lash out with my hand towards trying to touch her again or to flee the men away, an outburst stuck in too many onlookers no privacy, though our bilingual conversations, we turn the same age, but I must hold my tongue and whisper if they hear us, and this makes my limbs turn monstrous in their movements. And objects like slamming doors still crack my heart. Only piece in our night-time home, yet she is sometimes and is always with me as much as possible despite the way I try to ignore her sometimes when I need to think or live with other people during the day. At this train station, I pray and pray, aloud, a little heady on one glass of wine after visiting my grandmother and trying to tell her that I can hear her dead father (who isn’t dead, they remind me) laugh at her story about him, coming home drunk to drink bicarbonate soda in his cup of tea.

At the train station she wants to come back to me, I walk in and out into the street, smoking countless cigarettes, talking out loud at times, repeating what she says though she warns me not, a Hebrew Anglo conversation, how would she come back? She says she would be a bright-eyed man, perhaps with that baby in her arms? I ask, and we are both beating stronger and lighter and darker than any of the people around us, lost in the middle of everyday reality which somehow has become part of my private inner world. How already I can spy dangerous men, their thoughts threaten action if she arrived here, she tells me she would have money, that we would meet if I left this place and arrived in the countryside, I plead with her not to be so hopeful, surely there are rules about this, how could we live an earthly life, and go through suffering and death, though I would know if she was here, and if she was, the only possibility we agree, would be if she were a man my own age. But then I ask her, what if I go mad from this, already I look at someone without my glasses on and wonder if it is her walking through the train station gates, sometimes I look around too often, but SHE would know how to find me, and I imagine waiting around in bookshops, and as she walks up to me, collapsing and crying on the floor, I already know, can envision what she would look like as a man. I hear her, as I lay on the ground outside a church as the church bell tolls, telling her Daddy that she wants to go back. And I groan out loud.

I pray and pray, I mutter loudly, I walk back into the station, chanting,

‘Please don’t come back, please don’t come back’. And thinking why??!! On your own, when they all pray the opposite?

I lay down on the metal bench inside and strongly say, though it may almsot have been a whimper; ‘pleaseeeeeee, don’t come back.’

And then everything is quiet. I calm down, though I can still remember the last words of that day…

And my phone rings, and my friend arrives.

And now we sit here, having read a Sufi book earlier, about lovers, and unity and how we both became one, and I tell her shush, in case they might hear.

Not ready yet. Please don't say that again.

Saturday, April 29, 2006

Saturday, April 29, 2006
Explanations

I know her name...eternal, noble, highborn, hebrew AND why old german I don't know...

...he moved away(!)...
no, she says; they had him killed...
(has been explained to me)...I do not want a conker...because this would make me cry!!...
her mother told me:
I must not make her cry...almost writing this in code...makes sense if you read the last months posts...

I have planned to go on holiday...because there was an old woman in the newsagent, whom I heard explain with words from God, slightly what was going on to the woman who works behind the counter, this has perhaps cleaned up may things, I heard her whilst sitting as I do now, in front of the shop...I am part Greek, also, i don't why she said that...explains the feral eyes of mine, so that brings together two lots if I wasn't shooing that news out in the garden on a Sabbath day... I have a feeling I this old woman was at the party held some nights ago...

...she told the woman that women like me are too cry, this is a woman who prayed, she seemed younger than me, as she asked about the dog outside, all I did was gruff at her, I'm ashamed of myself...hope this finally makes sense because because seems I am writing in a hurry...

I chanted a buddhist name today as I was learning all about Buddhism, lots more to read, the name made me float a little and I sat in a doze on the trampoline...recommend wikipedi-a...but don't phase me out because I have to read it slowly...Have tried to relax, read a Hebrew blessing last night when I got home late, someone interrupted me laughing in this plane phenomena, write a sci fi story about that, a real man would have forgiven her instead of getting annoyed...

had a break earlier, when Daphne esped me on the TV, did not realise it was her, she finally said some things that made me cry, and I worry about my Dad...she told me to come and see her tomorrow, I dont know why I let this die...

felt a connection with Hotai today, I needed to ask him so advice, he said the men here have no fear... Hotai was the Laughing Buddha, buddisht warriors
go through demonic experiences, in order to attain a state of nirvana, I have a feeling he is not laughing now...

the club was shut down due to a fight, i noticed the atmosphere was depressed, bouncers of a certain iccantika (though amazingly those too can attain a state pertaining to buddha hood...)started a fight there...the music was great, the man talking to me all night, was well...;
I had an awful night with a man who got his willy out in the street last night...saw Pool, he and his buddies ignored me, I haven't told them, he told me about seeing a '
'Griffin' I have already explained Hell is not a party, I'm sorry to have to repeat this but there are fires and demons eating human flesh...as for I-R-A-N
in this area and said he shouted out the window at them, did not run him over and get on the front page news as a hero...this worries me, and doesn't...unless everyone keeps shouting on about blood, which I do not have...well, why explain that...I do nothing,

the other women girls deal with them... as for I-R-A-N...

have you heard of badawi-soldiers of midian albums, and jerusalem under fire...I played one of their songs, it makes her go black...'so, oh what does midian mean?-judgement.'

Monday 8 September 2008

we had a fight, i broke a sword
she said we were finished,
she uh hum, said you know why i call them spics, so i walked away


we are fine...

when the nightmare happened i said; then tomorrow there will be no light,
i wake up today to sunshine today, and the dog has woken me up and said

'wake up to your queen.'

Sunday 7 September 2008

Why Do We Die These Days But Still Call It A Good Day When It's A No Day And There Are Hundreds To Talk to In the Street But All Strangers..

Crying For Her...

Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Crying For Her...

there is a song I have, I wandered the streets in the dark past houses, inviting them, could you believe? to a gig, those who were praying invited to a gig, for a woman who had been a good singer in her life, a woman who had read the Koran...someone flew over me yesterday and told me they had been to the gig, lke Pink Floyds dark side of the moon, that song, Great Gig In The Sky, I have no recollection of it, I got left out in the rain in my eyes, and as I sat at a table waiting for a lift home at 10 that night, heard 'we are waiting'...time to sleep, but the television of mogs eating my dreams was being watched by my dad downstairs, they now seem to have a knowledge of Kabbalah, but the singer got me on the telephone crying and blaming my dad, because I could not sleep...I ACTUALLY see her eyes, before I sleep into dreams of other worlds, they discuss me and say I am too Irish, I belive I am a Hebrew man, there, but we don't call it 'up there'...the song was she said, written for 'you and I'...or maybe I think egotistically, we wrote it??

'I flew to you...

you wrote me long distance, you screamed my name...

no guns, new yawning'
like I do at times now, when I wake up, yawn and stretch out my arms fully...

it brings tears, and I play it when I am crying her, I don't know the artist, Micah, someone, I look it up for you...

she talks to me through the birds, and you have to understand what that is like, I have found this so hard, thinking almost everything is dead...My little sister, breathes strangely in her sleep and I hear over and over again:

'we are not dead.'

I clasp my hands together and pray for her to stop saying that, but I am praying in the closeness, and she finally moves round in her bed and stops, it is hard to breathe here, we live on a main road...
'like the opposite to excorcist' I tell her the next day...

I saw a man with a beard hold a baby, just before I wake up one morning...today I kick a Lion King ball underneath my feet, a baby lion...

I had a weird dream this morning involving my own family, sitting on swings next to my grandad in the middle of a supermarket carpark...

I discussed all day yesterday, could they come back in a space cruiser? knock on my door today? would she be there knocking on my door, in a kind of green dress, I imagned as she said she would wear green, and she would have drove over in a stolen car, appeard in a country cabin, with a baby in her arms, BUT they would have called us both gay I hear, so then what if she turned up as a man, with a baby in her arms, dark hair, bright eyes, or perhaps in disguise as a blond, in the cigarette shop, and would I be running down the stairs to open the door, and have a heart attack, would we have to have benefits to live on, or would we be rich like she said? how old would she be? my age? a little older? how could she come live here and die here, there are so many impossiblities, if she came here would she/we get back?? and all those arguements and discussions with the others...where she get a bank account, will she really send me a gold letter to my door....IMPOSSIBLE in this world...it almost happened but I explained how dangerous it would be...

We are not dead...I wrote a poem last night, when I went to bed as early as possible, reading Paddington Bear, but I don't rate it...here it is anyway, 2 minutes drafting:

it seems terror is there, when you speak of hope
it shows hell is here, when our voices are broken
if the whole world revovled around our bed
every 'i love you' would be snatched between their teeth,

you told me you would be here tomorrow
i prepare for you by crying on the floor
the dog will wake me barking, hoping you will knock on the door,

each one has turned to jester
my life is dull, you say, eyes flash left though i'd need an eyepatch for every wrong act and word heard,
the telephone lines are crying,
you are waiting for me to get to the party
i asked if you could come back today...


See, stuck, fearful words, lame...

I managed to write two emails to friends today, after finally getting over this crying depression...I woke up crying her today, but I am meeting a friend today too,

'what will be, will be.'



The flat won't be finished for another 4 to 6 weeks due to the firemen breaking the electricity meter...hell. i mean heck.

April 20 2006

What I Have Just Discovered And Am Careful, Or Not,To Write.

friday:

Leave an easter egg for the high priestesses
the high priest calls me a pig.
the dog eats the egg.

tell me not to worry about the temple, sure it's being looked after
saturday:

day:

the high priest returns and tells me they were true light.

she tells me I AM THE KING OF IRELAND
we say together, yes and you are my davidian wife, a daughter,
I tell her 'acidously' that I hate Ireland
She says it was God's gift to me...and if I say this again, she jokingly says she will throw a tornado at me, I tell her to think about my family in this region. No tornados. Here.

sunday:
Remember a friend, who has recently been killed, I have found it hard to greive, but threw lots of things and the floor and blurted out, I want them down, Dov.

ban television...have four hours sleep, waking up in a low voice in front of a cookery programme, talking about Heaven and Earth. Realise we have cancelled the earthquake, that day.

monday:

Go to tell my family, don't talk about my family. Have a fight with my mother, stab her in the arm with a teaspoon. See my Grandmother. Two african women walk past the house and shout that there has been an earthquake in Africa. Old Mrs. Sikh neighbour shouts at the children outside, after hearing me talk aloud about my troubles in an empty house, am unable to sleep, and very hungry from lack of food. She tells them to pray to God, or else, she screams and becomes a warrior, I warn her she may be being too naggging, playing football is fine. And tell my Aunty, she takes me back to the towerblock where there is still no electricity, I talk to her as though I am warning her what will happen if I go back near that man with the television, my cousin tells her off on the phone, she gives me bread and cheese to eat.

The 'man upstairs' plays his loud television, someone shouts Nazis on live TV, I automatically scream Cossacks, (do not know what they word means) Please turn the television down, and Spic bitches, losing control, when I hear that word I feel shot in the head, sing Sacre au dela Sacre. Until I feel better and can sleep. We sing together.

Tuesday morning:

I speak to her that morning, she is reading a book, NO I AM NOT WRITING A BOOK,

THEY ARE SELLING YOU, SELLING ME, SHE IS UPSET, she has long hair, I do not want to go to sleep, so, she tells me to go to bed. I have been lying around often and sitting in the garden, crying often...

I TELL HER I LOVE HER, SHE KISSES ME ON THE HEAD, MY HEART FINALLY BEGINS TO HEAL AND GET FULLER.

WE ASK FOR THOSE AROUND US TO BRING BACK LOVE. I decide to go out, perhaps wander into town, feeling 'high', Dad has my prescription though and has unfortunately forgotten to pick up the medication.

This becomes a problem of not being able to sleep.

Serious

Saturday, April 15, 2006
Serious

this is hard for me to write:

Thursday Night,

I keep imaging myself falling by the wardrobe in my sisters room, collapsing...I hear the dog again, grumbling in his sleep... try to think about the Good Friday ahead, but don't want to think about their death, am told not to.

Something happens, and if you understand a few things about what tey call magic, and God...then...this is so hard for me to write...

I try to think about Jesus, and put my hands together and feel my body full of light, i get confused about hearing the dog, I say to myself please don't have put Jesus in him...

I have visions before I sleep, paintings, pictures in a futuristic 1930's style of demonic animals, a bull lowering it's horns, pictures I'm sure I have seen before, my head starts to feel full, of some kind of light, the dog tells me I am about to meet Dovid...I wonder if he means the old man I have met

'Don't call him an old man, he is a brother.'

I am sooo scared of falling asleep, I twist and turn in bed, at some moment feeling an 'aura' around my heart, but then try to concentrate my mind...I hold a hand to the side of my head, I'm not ready, hear:

'Hold the line..'

I sleep eventually when there are no planes flying over...

Yesterday I wake up...I know that King Dovid has been crying and I repeat this throughout the day...I act normally as much as posible, I wander into my Dad's room where he is sleeping to borrow some socks, he says:

'Kind David was crying.'

I sit around all day in the garden, and wander out twice in the day to buy cigarettes, I have missed church from waking up late...I borrow a bicycle in the front garden, and drive through the puddles, it had been raining that morning, sunny for most of the day, I hear someone talking about Gay men, and I get annoyed just as someone I can hear through the televison picks up what I am saying to myself in the kitchen, I think it is 'daphne', she gets annoyed I forget I heard her yesterday, she doesn't want us to be associated with gay men, and I Don't Want This Man in Me That Changes 'Magically' At Night to be called a gay man, and I don't want Our King to be either...

Alfie, barks in the garden that some people are 'Edomite C**&'...I don't know he picked that up from.

Anyway, I walk to the shop, and wander past an old man, he looks at me lifting two fingers round the dogs lead, and says:

'You got two then....'

I feel better after that, even in this town called Pied Cow, as Zarathustra called it, read the chapter about sleep.

In the shop I feel I should celebrate, for killing two Edomites or Aliens. But I look very proud underneath my scatty hair and my hood, and I get asked for I.D. But I am polite enough just to put the bottle of beer down, and sit in the street against a shop window, the King Of The Dogs occasionally tries to piss on my feet...I smoke a cigarette and think about buying some wine.

I heard a story from The Innuit Ghost, a girl that lived below me in the Towerblock, who used to hear me sing and go crazy at the man upstairs, and other things, I used to read books out loud to her...I hear she has been locked up, this must have been months ago, 'What the F*&( did you do?' I think...she told me about the man she had in her bedsit one night, he was her 'devil' of a boyfriend, how she had been in trouble...I got worried about her for months, which in a way led me to going mad...I think she is in a mental hospital, though I hear after this long discussion on TV, which I stay away from (due to all the energy and 'Other Side' occurances in the bedsit, and my love/worry) that she will be let out soon...for a while I was getting her confused with Daphne, 'They are gonna keep calling us Dykes!!!!'...In fact I worried, aftr Daphne hearing me mumble while I skethced about Dovid crying, that she was going to be locked up, because I didn't realise I would hear again and she had a kind of break, or break out...I was thinking about computers outside a computer shop, how I could have bought her one, or her Mum can buy her one,at the same time as sitting on the bike, 'left break, brake.'...

I wanted to drink a glass of wine...I didn't, I can't write this with distractions...

Weds April 12

Birdies and Doggies, and God.

"pretty polly is a pigeon
she's got a gammy leg
and she'll eat anything."

Sheffield Shanty, by an 'unknown' artist.

So, I talked to the birdies today, or rather I listen to them, they like the songs I've been playing. I forget what they said, but it was highly important, God is calm, I hope, after the news I heard yesterday in the rain...they "don't blame you [me]",' even though a queen had been going mad out there, not 'up' there in Heaven...I put my hands together last night, when I went to bed, and my little brother had a meeting during his sleepover, he had heard it too, he told his friends he had had enough of the 'demons' outside in their cars circling the area like some forgotten misfortune of too much. He had a scarf round his chin and a cap on, I think he bought it in Spain, I like it, a communist hat...He told his friends he was going to pray for her, I heard all this whilst eating chocolate sandwiches in bed, thinking I should just eat, wandering around the house, making food, and then eating in the bedroom, feeling guilty and going through this problem, wanting to sit downstairs and talk to him, he was also looking up something on the computer and so I told him the story of this queen, and then tried to sleep, and so i then put my hands together and felt something lifted and golden. Baby sister spoke in her sleep as my brother talked in the front room downstairs, 'we are safe'...that was a reassurance, and so I felt it best to go to sleep, although I told them it was hard for me to get any sleep. I think little bro told my Mum who wandered round the house putting Alfie back in his cage, that he was going to fight for God. Alfie was promised a long walk by me yesterday, so he could meet more doggies and tell them he is King Of the Dogs, he enjoyed his walk, but I didn't. He has become something of a guard dog, sticking up for me against neighbours by hollering and barking in the garden, though he continues to piss around the house and even almost pissed on me, so I find this new moniker of his rather appalling at times.

I think you all know what is happening by now...I hear upper worlds, there are also 10 lesser worlds...

A man outside, (or should I write about the prostitutes first? yes, I was up late Friday night, on the sofa this time, unable to sleep, and I hear one in a car outside with a man, I hear him tell her she has been paid to talk, no doubt spying on me, then I hear 'If you don't act more Goy, you're dead', so my plan is to walk to the kitchen and eat some bacon sandwiches, I think about getting up and making some food and think about a man, 'honey are you telling me he was on the rent.' I find her question exsperating though it's funny, prostitutes seem to be able to talk with me well, they have a down to earth attitude, but I think they should be more American or Jackie Brown in their outlook, and tell these men who drive around with a tinge of fascism that they are idiots, or, perhaps, steal their money, give them a slap in the face...whatever, I explained to her he had actually said as a joke that he tells his friends he has lots of girlfriends...much more down to earth, but indeed I do not laugh and stay as quiet as possible...) is a demon. This is indeed an ancient profession, and I am ancient in other ways. Like, I was married once, but he had no idea, so I divorced him by shouting at him, many times. Modern roles.

This is perhaps a Holy War, all undoubtably a local disaster, I am sure that going back to that flat when it is finally built, will create some more problems, (it was burnt down, as my neighbour was in fear of his life, all local gang attitudes, I forget my life tilters on the underground, not that I ever get involved with this stuff) but not, IF my social workers finally understand that I need a good neighbour, and it is in a quiet area, without flight paths flying over.)

I had another of those conversations two nights ago, but I find it impossible to think about and mull over...I took it as a metaphor, that this woman, going a little mad, was a representation of God, being locked up in a bedroom, and telling me, 'you didn't even give me an apartment!', mean't that I hadn't (as the dog said to the king) HONOURED GOD...I have been trying to think HOW I can possibly honour God...

She talked to me, about how he hadn't given me an apartment, a little lyrical rhyme for you on one of my bad days:

I said, all you gave me was an apartment,
she said, he hadn't given you an apartment,
and he said she said
you didn't even give me an apartment,

what a load of rubbish,

she was crying in her bed, her face was in the pillow, she said, 'i can't believe we both finally read each other!', i metamorphisized into something you could call a man, just lying there in bed listening to her, impossible to talk to her, felt, it's hard to explain calmer, like I had given up my own problems in that hour or so, i could see her, and i felt, waht? bigger, like my whole body became fuller, not bigger, fuller, this is a conversation I shouldn't be writing about, almost sacred, you'd could call it, i just listened in the dark, baby sister wakes up and drops one of her toys on the floor, 'that one made you go mad.' i explain it wasn't her that made me go mad, (but I don't even know who it is) it was those men in that house, this woman is almost going mad herself, 'you took the doggies for a walk.' I say nothing or, yes i did...she shouts up at her ceiling with 'you didn't even give me an apartment!'...and the conversation filters away as a plane flies over, another dangerous annoyance, or the sight, and I go to sleep but ponder over it for the last two days now...and shout and shout and shout and get everything wrong.

And I took the doggy for a longer walk today...God is in my family, and in my Dog's though I find it hard to keep sane...

I am also thinking about 'daphne.'

I feel awful, I think I have headlice, I'm sleeping in dirt, and I have spots from smoking too much and not breathing and not eating enough fruit...erkkkkkkkkk

God is in my family, I'm proud of my brother at last, I had to tell him as I wandered back into the house through the rain that after the way he had been talking to me and my family these last few days:

'Your mouth is a crime.'

Though I find it hard to tell him off without giggling, when I'm being a girl. I find it very hard to get angry...the other night, I screamed at all the deomons lurking outside, but instead worried a neighbour...and I get too weak...

No, I'm not quite losing it...